


Tales from the Crux

by AletheaFaust



Series: Tales from the Crux [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Hook, Bondage, Chastity Device, Dom/sub, Erotic Electrostimulation, F/F, F/M, Flexibility, Humiliation, Immobility, M/M, Massage, Multi, Non-Human Character, Paddling, Sex Toys, Spanking, Temperature Play, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:53:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25256467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AletheaFaust/pseuds/AletheaFaust
Summary: A series of one-off vignettes of various characters from the Sex Wizards series.
Relationships: Bridgette/Arlon, Garrett/Arlon, Garrett/Bridgette, Margeurite/Allisande, Olbric/Cancassi, Olbric/Margeurite
Series: Tales from the Crux [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1829773
Comments: 14
Kudos: 43





	1. Tales from the Crux - Allisande/Margeurite

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Inarchem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inarchem/gifts), [oineso](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oineso/gifts).



> Thank you to Inarchem for the request for the first installment of this side-series! Getting out of Dominai's head was harder than I anticipated, so apologies that it took so long. It was very good practice! I can't say that all of these will be first person, but this one ended up that way.
> 
> Also, if you have any characters or schools you'd like to see written about, leave it in the comments! To help with deciphering the schools, here's my cheat sheet (which is ever expanding. If you have recommendations of what should go into what school, let me know!)
> 
> Abjuration (magic that blocks, banishes or protects) - rope bondage/control  
> Conjuration (magic that produces out of thin air) - masturbation, chastity  
> Divination (magic that gains the truth about the past, present, future) - body worship, edging, full sensory deprivation  
> Enchantment (magic that can entrance or beguile others) - mindfuckery, humiliation, hypnotism  
> Evocation (magic that manipulates energy and taps into energy forces) - pain/impact play, sensory play  
> Illusion (magic that controls and manipulates the senses) - sensory deprivation, drugging  
> Transmutation (magic that modifies matter) - roleplaying/objectification/forniphilia  
> Corpimancy (magic that controls forces of life, death and undeath, healing) - bloodplay, piercing, necrophilia (super duper forbidden)

If someone told me seven years ago that I would agree to evocation with Allisande, I would have laughed until I bleated. In our early days at the Crux, it would have taken nothing short of a miracle to get me to bow to the spoiled, stubborn, noble-born human that had looked down her nose at me. The idea of the two of us casting together would have been preposterous to the point of laughable.

Yet as I make my way up the winding stairs to Allisande’s casting room, I can’t help but chuckle at how things have changed. Time’s made a fool of us both there. Allis hasn’t lost any of those qualities that had made me hate her so much in the beginning - they’ve simply gotten drowned out by the rest of her. Because Allisande is so much more than my less-than-charitable first impressions.

A year of worrying - wondering - _mourning_ the memory of the woman gave me a lot of time to think about our tumultuous early days. The times when we would glare at each other from across the mess hall. When we would take digs until shouting matches broke out. When it got so bad that Arlon had to intervene.

And thank the skies he did, because both of us were just one more incident away from being expelled from the Crux entirely. If he had gone through with it, I never would have gotten the chance to see through my own dislike. I never would have seen the good things in her. Like that drive, that _determination,_ and the whip-sharp mind behind it that could make those plans a reality.

I think it was that drive that first won me over to her - at least to the point where we could work with each other without descending into verbal sparring matches. Her determination to explore the possibilities of magic fit my own drive like the missing piece of a puzzle. Yet it wasn’t until I saw the way she looked at me during those special, quiet moments after a casting that I realized she loved me. It was the second later, when her lips found mine that I realized I loved her back.

I trail my hand over the red stone hallway of the abjuration tower and let out a breath as I reach Allisande’s casting room. For a second, I hesitate. I can’t bring myself to knock on the door because - dammit, I’m _afraid._

After Allis and I got our abjuration masteries, evocation seemed like the next logical step. The idea of it had always been exciting, especially when I imagined Allis being the one to stand behind me with a flogger, or have me at her mercy under the point of a cane. And I tried my best. I really did. I came to the Crux with the idea of full mastery - the first ovisari to achieve such accolades, but evocation was the school that shattered those hopes. 

The second the tress of a flogger hit the wrong spot, or the sting of a crop cracked against my skin, I would shriek a stop at the top of my lungs. No matter what we tried, the reality of the school never lived up to the fantasy I had created in my mind. Yet even after I swallowed my pride, tucked away the thoughts of full mastery and ruled evocation out, Allisande had continued on and flourished. Without me. 

It was the first wedge of incompatibilities that would eventually start to drive us apart. We never tried to cast evocation with each other again, and it was like a sore on the surface of our relationship. One that only grew and festered as the jealousy and resentments from our early days returned. 

I shove the thought aside. Those days have passed. In the months since the cave, we’ve put it behind us. It’s taken time and tears and effort, but slowly, we learned how to trust each other again. Casting divination has helped both of us heal those old wounds, to reacquaint ourselves with one another.

Allis promised me something different for this attempt, and I trust her. I have to at least try. But skies, my nerves aren’t making it easy. My stomach feels like it’s full of moths. I know that neither of us want to fail at this - again. 

I knock, and when Allis opens the door, I can see that she’s just as nervous. Her smile tries to hide it, but even after all this time, I can still read the woman like an open book. Divination has helped with that, too, and it’s even easier to do without the silver obscuring her face.

Nerves or no, she takes my hand and pulls me into the casting room. Confidence has always been another of her traits that I admire. Even when she feels uncertain, she doesn’t let it dictate her actions. She closes the door behind me before her lips are against mine, pressing me back against the wall. Heat floods me and burns some of the moths away. 

“Ready?” Her voice is a gentle purr against my lips.

“I think so,” I say with a shiver. “Are you?”

She moves her lips to my jaw, kissing her way under my horn and to my ear. “We’re about to find out.” Her teeth are gentle as she nips at the sensitive skin of my earlobe, making the tip of my ear give an involuntary little twitch.

Allisande’s hands are gentle as they slide my robe off, letting it pool on the ground. Underneath, I made sure to wear something easy to get off and Allisande wastes no time. Warm fingers toy with the straps of my dress before she slides them from my shoulders. The dress slides down my hips and puddles at my feet, leaving me bared to her. 

Winter’s started in earnest now, and snow gathers outside of the glass panes of the windows. Allisande has a fire roaring in the hearth to warm the room, but I shiver all the same. The red head's face glows in the crackling light of it, but the look she gives me smoulders.

 _There’s_ the caster I recognize. The cave changed her - there was no way it couldn’t have. But over half a year after being freed, I see more of her that I recognize instead of the new parts that I don’t. 

Allisande’s hands stroke down my sides, and my skin ripples at the contact. Skies how I missed this. How I missed _her._ Her weight presses me against the cold wall, and I arch at the shock against my bare skin. She swallows my gasp as she catches my lips again, kissing me deeper this time. Tongue exploring before she gently worries my bottom lip between her teeth.

The heat behind the kiss leaves me breathless, but then Allisande grabs my horn and pulls my head to the side to expose my neck. I shudder as she sucks and nips down the tender skin, almost certainly leaving a peppering of bruises behind. Her leg slides between mine, pinning me yet again. My hands fly to her shoulders, yet I can’t help but grind against her thigh, my cunt already throbbing. 

“Hands against the wall.” 

I recognize that no-nonsense tone. It sends a pleasant jolt of fear through me, and I do as told, laying my palms flat even though my fingers itch for something to grab onto. I grind my hips down, and the texture of Allisande’s loose skirts makes heat pool in my stomach, burning away the rest of the moths.

The weight of her abruptly pulls away. My legs threaten to turn to water underneath me, and my cunt throbs from the sudden lack of stimulation. Allisande takes my wrists and pulls me to the center of the room as a coil of rope appears from her pocket. 

“I’m going to tie your hands in front of you and pull them over your head,” she says. 

It had been my request that she tell me what she was going to do before she did it. It was the happy middle ground that still allowed her to keep her plans a surprise. What I wasn’t expecting was that the simple explanation would send a jolt of excitement through me. My cunt clenches again. Yet it only gets worse (or better?) when Allis takes my hands and ties my wrists together.

The knots are simple, and when Allis pulls my arms over my head, she leaves a little bit of slack so my elbows can bend. The ropes put my arms just high enough that I can’t use them to cover my chest - an area Allisande likes to target when I’m helpless in divination, and I have no reason to believe that habit won’t cross schools. 

I pull my legs tightly together out of instinct as Allis walks a slow circle around me, one hand gliding over my waist and hips. She stops behind me, and I resist the urge to turn and look back at her. An arm wraps around my waist, trailing over the sensitive skin at the crux of my legs while the other snakes a hand around my throat. The hand at my throat constricts just slightly, controlled and deliberate even as her fingers slide through the folds of my cunt. I moan and lean my head back against her shoulder. 

“Gods you’re already so wet,” Allis murmurs against my ear. “Is this fine so far?”

I arch my back and grind against her hand, trying to coax those fingers deeper. “Yes.”

Allisande removes her hands, but a second later, one of them returns in a stinging slap against my ass. It’s not hard, but the little jolt of heat makes me gasp all the same. “Good.” Her hands slide down the mounds of my ass and gently spread me. “Because I’d like to put something in here next.” A finger presses against the pucker of flesh, and I just barely resist pushing back onto her finger.

“I suppose that’s alright,” I say. It’s an attempt to sound calm and collected, one that I certainly fail. 

“Good,” Allisande says. “No peeking.”

The warmth of her disappears, and I curse my horns for blocking my periphery like they do. I want to turn, but to see what she’s up to, I’d have to be obvious about it. I’m not left waiting for long, because she returns a moment later and wastes no time gliding a slicked finger down to tease at my hole. I spread my legs just a little and grip the ropes as I roll my hips back in offering. 

“Eager little slut,” Allis purrs.

I bite my lip and chuckle. “I’m sorry, are we doing enchantment or evocation?” I’m rewarded with another slap against my ass, this one a little sharper than the last. I yelp, but the thrill of pain isn’t enough to scare me into stopping.

“Cheeky little kid,” Allis retorts and gives my horn a little tug. Then she pushes a slick finger past the tight little ring of muscle. I gasp as she pushes her digit deep only to spread my legs a little wider as Allis glides in a second. I moan as she teases me open. She’s slow and just like with divination, maddeningly thorough with her preparations. I can’t help but wish those fingers were knuckle deep in my cunt instead. 

Her fingers finally withdraw, and I feel the tender entrance throb in time with my cunt. Something cold and smooth and round takes their place a moment later. A round marble presses against the ring of flesh before it slips in, yet it’s not until I feel the cold chill of metal curl between the mounds of my ass and rest against the small of my back that I realize it’s no focus. 

“I’m going to tie your horns,” Allis says and I can’t stop a whimper. The horns themselves aren’t sensitive, but the skin around them certainly is. Allisande learned this early on, during those long nights we spent just exploring one another outside of the casting rooms. The glide of the ropes over the sensitive skin at the base of my horns makes me shiver. Allis takes her time and I wish I could see what she was doing, even though I feel a bit of pressure as the ropes pull tight around the curve of my horns. 

Allis tugs the rope and my head is forced back. I see Allisande’s inverted smirk grinning down at me. “I’m going to test your flexibility,” she says.

I purse my lips to stop a moan as the ropes around my horns pull taught. I’m forced to bend, feeling the delicious stretch in the muscles of my back. Ovisari are flexible by nature, but Allis seems intent to test my limits. 

I feel the thing in my ass shift, feel the rope tie around the end that rests against the small of my back. But it’s only when she cinches the rope tight, and I feel the subsequent tug from the thing inside of me that I realize she’s settled a _hook_ in me. She pulls tight, and it forces my chest out as I arch my back to accommodate the bend. I roll my hips back to ease the tug from the hook inside of me, and it feels like I’m bent halfway to a bridge, though I only have the ropes and my own unsteady feet to support me. The bend takes up the slack my arms had been given, and I can’t stop a whimper when I realize she’s got me trapped. If I try to pull my head up or ease the bend in my back, I only succeed in tugging the hook harder. I can’t so much as budge.

Allis walks into my line of sight, and I look at her upside down. “Still fine?” she asks. Her nails trail over my stomach, tickling gently up my arched chest.

“Yes!” I gasp even as gooseflesh prickles over my skin. Allisande takes one of my nipples and gives it a tug, pulling the small mound into a peak before dropping it. She does the same to the other side, making a heat that isn’t quite pain throb through the sensitive flesh.

“Good.” Allis lets go, but I can still feel the phantom heat of her touch against my skin. Between the chill of the room and Allisande’s attentions, my nipples are hard as marbles. A second later, six magiline rings slide over my fingers, and I clench my hands around them. 

Then, somewhere in front of me, out of my current line of sight, I hear the sound of a match being struck. It sends a thrill of genuine fear through my haze of excitement. My voice emerges, quiet and uncertain. “Allis?”

“It’s alright,” she promises. “I wouldn’t dare use fire on you. But I am going to pour something warm onto you, and you have to tell me if it’s too hot.”

I try and fail to straighten and see what the woman is up to, but only succeed in tugging the hook again. It sends a jolt of sensation through me, and I take a breath before easing back into the stretch. It’s certainly not an easy position to maintain and it leaves me feeling dangerously exposed. Even so, I feel a drip of wetness slide down my thigh. “I will.”

“Good.”

I draw in another breath, but it feels like an eternity as I wait, tense and ready. Then something hot drops onto my chest, just shy of hitting my nipple. My breath rushes out on a surprised little yelp. Another drop follows, then another, raining down and aiming for the tender little points. It makes my squeal even as heat pools in my stomach.

Allisande chuckles. “Alright?”

I yelp as another hot drop lands directly on the point of my nipple. It’s always a surprise, but the initial hot sting is certainly not unbearable. “Yes!”

I can hear Allisande’s smile when she says, “Good.”

The drops start to come more frequently, coating one nipple, and then the other, but it’s only when the drops start to cool and harden on my skin that she realizes it’s _wax._ Allis coats my chest before moving lower. It drips over my curve of my chest, sliding down my stomach and hardening into lines. 

I’m so focused on the little stings of heat that the sudden hand between my legs makes my shout. It’s an automatic reflex to try and straighten my head up, but I only succeed in pulling the hook sharply. I whimper and buck my hips as best as I can as Allis teases a finger through my wet folds.

“Gods you’re dripping,” Allis purrs into my ear. I’m panting as I try to grind myself further onto Allisande’s fingers, but it only makes the hook tug in a new way. I can’t stop a shout of frustration, my legs shaking with need as my hands clench under the ropes. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were enjoying evocation.”

“You’re a fiend,” I gasp, voice strained. 

Allis tsks. “Guess I better stop then.”

The drops of wax stop falling, and Allis pulls her fingers away. “No!” I shout even as I sway precariously in my ropes. “Please don’t stop.”

Allisande’s hand steadies me before she circles around and presses a kiss against my inverted lips. Heat covers my chest, and I squeal as she pours the reservoir of wax between my breasts. I writhe in my ropes, but Allsiande swallows my sounds of pleasure and pain as she plunders my mouth.

Her other hand slides over my hip before her fingers plunge into my wet cunt. My scream reaches a higher pitch as Allis fucks me with two fingers, then three, her palm rubbing over my clit in a way that makes my hips jerk. Every time I do, the hook tugs, reminding me of my own helplessness. All the while, the stings of pain from the hot wax continue to pepper my skin, but it only stokes the burning pleasure that Allis elicits with her skilled fingers. 

The focuses on my fingers spark, and I feel Allis smile against my lips even as her fingers curl against that spot inside of me with the ease of long familiarity. I feel the pleasure building as Allisande’s palm rubs my clit with a steady, pulsing pressure. The fingers inside of me twist and curl, but when it’s the sting of wax against the sensitive skin of my nipple that sends me over the edge. 

I scream as my orgasm washes through me. I jerk as my cunt clenches around Allisande’s fingers, but the other woman doesn’t relent. Her fingers plunge deeper, her palm rubs harder and my hips writhe and jerk helplessly as I feel my knees threaten to give out. Only then does Allis relent.

I can’t stop an exhausted moan as her fingers slide from me, my body shaking from the strain of the position and the intensity of my orgasm. Then Allisande cups my cheek. “Still fine?” 

I give a breathless laugh. “Yes.”

“Good. Because I’m not done with you.”

The ropes around my wrists loosen, and some of the wax on my chest cracks and flakes off like I’m a statue breaking free of its pedestal. Allis helps me find my balance before grabbing my wrist and pushing me onto all fours. The hook in my ass tugs in protest to the readjustment, but at least I can let my arms relax, even if my head is still forced back. 

I brace myself on my bound hands, and now, I have no choice but to look up. Allis stands over me, her red hair pulled back into a tight braid, black boots up to her knees. The smile she gives me makes me tremble, but no more than the magiline phallus that juts up from the harness strapped over her bare pelvis. 

Allis lets her long skirts slide the rest of the way off before she grabs my horn. The phallus pokes at my lips, and I can feel the tingle of charge inside of it. “Suck,” Allis orders. 

I shudder and open my mouth to let Allis thrust in. The magiline is cool and sparks like static as it hits my tongue. It’s cold and hard, and though it’s not my favorite thing to choke on, it’s my favorite thing to put elsewhere. My cunt clenches in anticipation. 

Allis makes me wet it thoroughly, keeping her hand on my horn all the while. I work my tongue around it and whimper as she eases it deeper. It’s hard and unyielding, and I can’t help but gag. Only then does Allis slide it free. I gasp, feeling saliva smearing my face. 

I can only watch as Allisande circles behind me and grabs the rope between my horns and the hook. “Allis!” I gasp, my muscles starting to ache from the angle. My cunt clenches, ready and waiting for the hard, merciless stretch of the phallus. 

But it doesn’t come. Instead, I feel the now familiar drip of hot wax land against my back. I wail, body shaking with desperation. “I take it back! You’re a fucking monster!”

Allisande chuckles and lets the hot wax coat my back as thoroughly as it had my front, trailing from my shoulders to the mounds of my ass. My arms and legs shake as the little stings of heat splatter and cool on my skin. It pools at the base of my spine, and I’m so focused on the steady drip that the phallus catches me by surprise when it stretches the entrance of my cunt.

I shout, my body jerking, but Allis holds the ropes on my horns, anchoring me to the spot. The hard length pushes slowly into me, as if Allis wants me to feel every inch of it. Static prickles from the magiline, making the walls of my cunt ripple and flex. It makes the phallus feel huge, filling my slit, even as the anchors my ass. The drag of the smooth stone is ecstasy as Allis pulls out before thrusting in again. 

“Allis please!” I shout as the hot wax continues to drip onto her skin. My neck aches, muscles trembling from the strain. 

“Please what?” Allis purrs, her hips never ceasing their slow roll that pushes the phallus in and out of me. When her hips are flush against my wax-coated ass, the static starts to grow stronger, turning to a muscle vibrating _thrum._ I wail, and it feels like I’ve forgotten how to talk. The wave of pleasure builds again and Allis barely has to fuck me to do it. Not with the things the phallus is doing inside of me. The drag of it feels impossibly big as my muscles clench around it of their own volition, as if my body is trying to stop Allis from pulling it out.

Allis does anyway before thrusting back in, only incrementally faster. My hands clench, fingers curling around the focuses as they spark again. Allisande finally sets the candle aside, and I feel her lay across my wax-coated back.

“Do you like evocation, Mags?”

I scream my answer. “YES!” The pleasure crests, and I cum again, my cunt clenching around the phallus as Allis fucks me deeply. I ride the waves of it, body shuddering as the pleasure crashes through me again and again. The charge of the phallus sustains it, the hook tugging with every involuntary jerk my body makes as my orgasm rolls through me. 

Spit leaks out of my corner of my mouth as I scream my pleasure. The pleasure starts to become too much, overwhelming me as it turns sharp. My horns are starting to ache at the roots. And just before I can begin to muster a stop, Allis does, leaving me lightheaded as the phallus pulls out of me. 

I gasp for breath, every exhale a whimper. I feel fingers on the ropes around my horns before the bindings loosen. I moan for an entirely different reason as I’m allowed to stretch out, laying flat in a field of wax flakes, the hook still deep in my ass. I can’t even muster the energy to care. I feel boneless and sore, the echoes of pleasure still throbbing from the tips of my ears to the soles of my feet. 

The ropes around my wrist loosen before they’re tossed away. Allisande’s weight settles on my thighs as she straddles me. I stretch my stiff neck, carefully moving it to the left and right before I lay it on my arms and glare halfheartedly back at her. “Haven’t you tortured me enough?” I ask. 

Allisande chuckles, and I feel the warmth of her hands rest against the small of my back before rubbing upwards in one long stroke. I moan even as the drops of wax soften under Allisadne’s hands. It melts into something like oil, and it feels incredible as she massages the sore muscles of my shoulders and neck.

"It’s coconut wax,” Allisande says, and she very sounds pleased with herself. “It has a lower melting temperature than the candles I normally use.” Warm fingers massage the oil into my neck, wringing another groan out of me as she kneads the sore muscles. “Plus, it’s good for your skin.”

I can’t stop a tired chuckle. I didn’t realize such a thing existed. Allisande must have gone out of her way to find something suitable to use with me, and it makes me feel warm from the inside out.

“Are you alright?” Allis asks. “Was I too hard on your neck? Would you like to move to the bed?”

I can hear the nerves creeping into the woman’s voice, and I smile as I slowly push up from the ground. Allis lifts her weight immediately, allowing me to turn and face her. I cup her cheek and grab her braid so he can’t pull away before I drag her into a deep kiss. I want her to feel my gratitude. 

“It was perfect.”


	2. Garrett/Arlon/Bridgette - Conjuration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of one-off vignettes of various characters from the Sex Wizards series.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEW. This was a doozy to write (and good practice because I don't write nearly enough third person). I had a couple of people request some manner of chastity/conjuration content with Arlon and Garrett, so thank you to oineso and anonymous commenter R for putting this bug in my brain. And since it involves the two of them, I couldn't help but bring in the third person in their little triad, Bridgette. She plays a bigger role in part 2, but this is a great way to introduce her. 
> 
> With these one-offs, I've also tried to include some fun information about the world as well. So while the focus is the smut, I hope there's enough extra bits to keep them interesting!
> 
> I haven't forgotten about the request for something with Thaddius either. He's another character I have Plans for, so I'm trying to decide the best way to really introduce him.
> 
> A quick update - part 2 is getting SO CLOSE! I'm hoping to start posting it in October. In the meantime, I've also been cross-posting Initiation to Literotica! It's the same story, but cleaned up (and maybe a little sexier), so if you want to hop over and see the changes, you can find them here: https://www.literotica.com/stories/memberpage.php?uid=5284359&page=submissions
> 
> Thank you all for continuing to read this strange, indulgent little project. If you like it, leave a comment or a kudos! Seriously, I write this because I like doing it, but your comments are what keep me fueled to continue. If you want to see something in particular, just let me know. My wish is your command ;)

Garrett was starting to hate Arlon. Or rather, his cock was well past the point of hating Arlon, and the rest of him was just catching up.

Honestly, after two full months of chastity, that was to be expected. What he had _not_ been expecting was for the damn cage to interfere with his work. 

Even though the clinic had been open for nearly three months, it was only in the past few weeks that folks had finally started coming. He’d known it was going to be a battle. King Lionel had given Garrett his blessing (and a sizable grant on top of that) to open the public health facility, but the people of Stratham had proven stubborn. Humans have a hard time trusting wizards, and an even harder time trusting orc-kin, but he had been disappointed all the same when the first few weeks passed by without a single person coming through his door.

Then winter rolled in, and the fever came riding on its back. Last year’s had been a bad one, but this year's was worse. More resilient. Longer lasting. Those struck by it wasted away over weeks as the fever burned them from the inside out. 

That was when Garrett saw his first uptick in attendance. The poor and desperate came because they had nowhere else to go. And he had helped them as best as he could, even if that just meant giving them a warm place to find Quietus. It gave him a chance to see the effects of the fever up close, yet in the early days, he lost more than he saved.

The disease had no care of who it took. It struck the lowest beggar to the richest aristocrat without prejudice. It swept through the slums and court alike, and the city’s worst fears were confirmed when King Lionel took sick. It was a long three weeks as the city waited with baited breath to see if he would pull through, and the day he succumbed, the entire city wailed as their beloved king joined his queen in Quietus.

Then the fever struck his son, Thermilious, and a very different kind of fear gripped the city. If the thirteen-year-old crown prince died, gods forbid, it would have left Streatham without a regent. So, with no other options, and an entire city watching him, the royal physician had swallowed his pride and came to the Crux, begging for help. 

A lucky thing, too. Thermilious had been holding on by a frayed thread, but Garrett managed to create a spell to dampen his fever and pull him out of death’s grip. Garrett spent weeks at the young prince’s bedside, helping him struggle through a slow recovery. 

But recover, he did. Thermilious survived, and the coronation took place the same day as his father’s funeral. After his father was buried and the crown heavy on his head, Thermillious' first act as king was to appoint Garrett the role of royal physician, publicly replacing and rebuking the man who had failed his father.

It had been a shocking declaration. Some of the powerful noble families had spoken their dissent - loudly at first - until the young king had asked if they would have preferred he had died with his father. All outcry stopped quickly after that. 

Talk throughout the city, however, was harder to quell. A half-orc in such a highly esteemed position was unheard of, but Garrett had agreed, and in doing so, gained an additional grant from the Crown that allowed him to hire two non-magical physicians and seven nurses to help him at the clinic. A fortunate thing too, because after the news got out that the man who stood at the sick bed of royalty had a health facility that _anyone_ could go to, the doors to the clinic were blown wide open. 

As winter raged on, the fever seemed like, maybe, just maybe, it was starting to level out. Even so, there were more than enough cases to keep him, Danica and Ravi busy. Tonight had been the first night they’d had an empty bed. Three weeks prior, they’d all been filled, and they’d had to resort to triage to weed out the more severe cases. The rest were sent home with tinctures and instructed to stay home, or return if their fever worsened or the rash appeared.

The stress of the long shifts combined with his… growing frustrations were doing nothing to help is concentration. It wasn’t until he was giving a pelvic examination to a woman he suspected had a cyst on her ovaries that he realized he needed to get this fucking spell _over with_ already. There was already enough gossip about the half-breed royal physician, and he didn't need the "perverted wizard" talk adding to it. That was rhetoric that didn’t need to be circulated any more than it already was, and he was doing the best he could under the circumstances, damnit! 

He could have asked Bridgette to take it off, but that felt like cheating. Whenever they did conjuration, both Arlon and his wife kept a copy of his key. After him and Bri had moved out of the Crux and into Straetham proper, it became necessary. There were times that Garrett couldn’t get back to the Crux for weeks at a time, and someone had to unlock him every few days to clean his cage. Bri was always happy to oblige, especially because she got to tease him to _insanity_ before locking him back up again. 

Honestly, after two months of this, it’s a miracle he was able to function as well as he could. But even an experienced wizard can reach a breaking point, and Garret was at his. 

That was the game, after all. Hold out for three months or until he just _couldn’t_ anymore. With the weeks he’d had, he was sure his wife was just waiting for him to call a stop. Bridgette had always been perceptive. 

__

So it didn’t surprise him that when he made it home from the clinic that night (late again), she took one look at him and asked, “Time to go to the Crux?”

__

“Sure is.”

__

Bridgette chuckled and set her mortar and pestle on the table before going to the hearth. She scooped him a bowl of stew over rice and set it at the table. “Eat first.”

__

Garrett dropped his mask at the door and countered, “Bath first.”

__

“Wait until the Crux,” she said. “You said yourself you thought the virus was spreading through breath, so if you were carrying it home from the clinic, I would have gotten it weeks ago.”

__

“Bri-”

__

“Hush.” It was an order, but a gentle one. “I’m _fine._ And I’m sure I owe it in large to how careful my husband is while he’s at work.” 

__

She wasn’t wrong. He wore a mask every second he was in the clinic. Changed clothes before he came home. Even so, he went over to the wash basin and scrubbed his hands all the same. He couldn’t help it. Worrying came natural to him. Especially after how close she had gotten last winter when she’d taken sick. Where his constitution was lined in steel, hers was thin as paper.

__

When he finally sat, Bridgette came up behind him, her fingers squeezing his shoulders. Even if her ability to fight off illness was weak, the rest of her certainly wasn’t. Her fingers dug into his tight muscles with enough strength to make him groan. He relaxed under her, the chair creaking under his weight. 

__

Bridgette didn’t let up until he was limp under her hands. “You’re taking tomorrow off.” It wasn’t a request. Garrett nodded - he’d already made the arrangements. “Good.” She pulled his head back to kiss him, her long silver hair brushing his cheek. “Eat,” she said again.

__

He smiled tiredly up at her before he picked up his spoon and did as told. Bridgette sat across from him and picked up her steaming mug before taking a sip. “Do you want to talk about today?”

__

On the bad news days he usually didn’t, but today had been a day to celebrate. “We cleared ten beds,” he said. “All of them survived. Three of them had even developed the rash, but we managed to fight it back. And I got to deal with something _other_ than the fever today.” A rare treat anymore. Granted, the woman also had the fever, but she had been improving on that front. “I thought it was her appendix at first, but the pain was coming from lower. I think it may have been an ovarian cyst.”

__

Bridgette winced. “Sounds delightful.”

__

Garrett chuckled and said, “It seemed to be a mild one, thankfully. It wasn’t pleasant, but she’s fine.”

__

“Well, thank the gods for ovarian cysts, I suppose. At least it broke your day up.”

__

He gave a bark of a laugh and felt more of the tension bleed from his shoulders. That twisted sense of humor had startled him out of a bad mood more than once, and he was grateful for it tonight. Not every day this week had been so good.

__

Bridgette gave a small smile over the rim of her mug. “I’m glad that Quietus is finally getting full,” she said. “About godsdamned time.”

__

“Cheers to that,” he muttered and raised his mug before taking a long drink of water. He scooped another spoonful of stew into his mouth, and was finally present enough to taste it. Hearty with onions, potatoes and carrots broken up with a few savory chunks of meat. It was seasoned with pepper and the fresh rosemary Bridgette had been growing in the glasshouse. It was exactly what he needed.

__

“I finished another batch of tincture,” she added. “I’m hoping it’ll be enough to get you through the rest of winter.”

__

“Thank you,” he said. “It’s been working miracles.” Bridgette was a hell of an apothecary, and her most recent tincture recipe was the only thing that could even touch the more severe cases of the fever outside of magic.

__

“I’ll be lucky if my basil plant survives,” she said, though Garrett knew she was joking. The damn thing was taking over the entire southeast corner of the glass house. “Not to mention, the price of that ginger root made my hair curl.”

__

“Good thing you found a way to grow it here,” Garrett said. They’d bought that root from an western trader years ago, and the fact that Bri couldn’t let the price go had become an inside joke after all this time. Garrett was convinced that stupid tuber had earned it’s weight in gold six times over.

__

“Good thing,” Bridgette agreed smugly.

__

She let him finish his dinner in silence, and once he had cleared away the dishes, Bridgette was waiting with their cloaks. He took them from her and helped her shrug into hers before pulling his own over his shoulders. When it was time to go, he opened the door for her, and she made sure the lock latched behind them.

__

It was about a half an hour’s walk to the Crux from their house just outside of the market. The past few days had been frigid - too cold to even snow other than the crystalline, powdery flakes that shined like glitter in the sunlight. Tonight, their breath billowed in clouds in front of them, the moon huge and bright in the frozen sky. 

__

Garrett barely felt it, but after only a few minutes, Bridgette started to shiver. He put an arm around her shoulders and she grabbed his hand as she wedged against his side. Her other arm slid behind his back, her cold hand pressing against the small of his back.

__

He shivered as her touch slid down, fingers wedging under the hem of his trousers to grab his ass. Heat throbbed in his groin, and he raised an eyebrow at her. 

__

“What?” Wicked pleasure quirked the corner of her lips. “My hands are cold.”

__

“Mhmm.”

__

She smirked up at him and tightened her grip, digging her nails in just enough to mark his tough skin. “You know that Arlon’s going to make you beg.”

__

“Oh, I know.”

__

“He was hoping to get three months out of you with this conjuration,” Bri pointed out, like he wasn’t already painfully, distractedly aware of that. “That’s a whole month you’re going to have to make up to us.” 

__

Garrett bit back a groan as Bridgette’s fingers trailed lower, sliding down the cleft of his ass. They passed a man heading the opposite direction with his hood pulled low, but Garrett schooled his face to careful neutrality all the same. “Do you think you can handle that?”

__

“I can handle it,” he promised. Gods he _craved_ it. He was wound tight as a bowstring, and the only people who could force him to loosen back up were his wife and Arlon.

__

“We’ll see,” Bridgette said as her finger pushed against the pucker of his ass.

__

His back snapped ramrod straight as a chill that had nothing to do with the cold shot up his spine. Shadows covered her face, but he could feel Bridgette’s smile all the same. Even though they continued their walk in silence, Bridgette’s fingers were anything but quiet. 

__

When they were the only ones left on the chilly road, she pulled his cloak off. She waited a few steps before she pulled up the front of his shirt. It went over his head, keeping his arms covered while exposing the grey skin of his chest. The frosty air felt good. After spending the first five decades of his life in the high plains, he never quite lost his tolerance to the cold.

__

Her fingers unbuttoned his trousers one by one as they neared the Crux. By the time they reached the drawbridge, she had pulled his caged cock free, letting the metal chill against his sensitive skin. Garrett let out a low groan, but before he could step across the drawbridge, Bri grabbed his long braid and pulled him to an abrupt stop. She pressed a soft kiss against his cheek.

__

“You better come correct.” The brush of her lips against his skin sent gooseflesh tingling down his arms. “Arlon’s not going to let you out unless you’re on your best behavior.”

__

It was no empty threat. Arlon was strict with him.

__

“Yes, Mistress.” Now that they were at the Crux, he switched to the honorific automatically. That was what they’d negotiated when him and Bri had moved out. As soon as he entered the courtyard, he belonged to them.

__

They stepped over the drawbridge as Garrett stripped his shirt the rest of the way off. His shoes came off across the courtyard. His trousers followed at the door. Bri followed behind him to pick them up, bundling them under her arm.

__

The main doors were already closed for the night, but Bri touched his naked shoulder as she passed him. Garrett knelt obediently, letting his knees fall against the cold stone as he lowered his head. Bri clanked the metal knocker. 

__

The hatch opened a moment later, and a set of honey colored eyes peered out at them. “Evening, Alix,” Bri said pleasantly.

__

“Wondered if we'd be seeing you two soon.” The metal lock clicked, and the doors groaned open. 

__

Of course Crux wizards gossip. With him and Bri coming and going as they did, there would always be talk, and Alix looked a little smug too smug to be innocent of it. Hell, there were probably bets riding on this particular conjuration. Garrett wondered how much coin he’d just won the young wizard. “The grandmaster’s still in his office.”

__

Bridgette gave Garrett’s braid a tug to get him moving. “Have a good night Alix.”

__

“You, too.” 

__

Garrett could almost feel Alix’s gaze boring into his back as they passed. Embarrassment made the pulse roar in his ears. He kept his head lowered like he could hide from it, but that was the curse of being so damn big. There was no easy way to hide for someone like him.

__

Bridgette kept him at a crawl all the way to Arlon’s office. Light poured from the crack in the door, and when Bridgette widened the gap, Arlon looked up from his desk. He was wearing the spectacles that he claimed he didn’t need, but he yanked them off when he realized who it was. 

__

Only long practice stopped Garrett from rolling his eyes. Arlon thought they made him look old, but both Garrett and Bri agreed he looked esteemed. A true Grandmaster of the Crux.

__

“I brought you a present,” Bri said.

__

Arlon pushed himself to his feet. Even though Garrett was tall, Arlon was taller, and being on his hands and knees in front of the grandmaster never failed to make him tremble. Arlon had a presence to him, one that was on in full force as he moved to lean against the front of his desk. The look he gave Garrett was hungry, like he had been hoping for this, waiting for him to show up and admit defeat.

__

Garrett was finally ready to. He crawled to the rug in front of Arlon’s desk and kneeled so his forehead touched the ground just in front of Arlon’s boots. “Please Master, would you unlock my cage?”

__

Arlon hummed, and when he tapped his shoe, it nudged Garrett’s forehead. “You know, when the fever was picking up, I offered you a chance to cut the spell short,” he said. “And do you remember what you told me?”

__

Garrett winced. “I told you that if I couldn’t handle a three month conjuration, I may as well give my mastery back.”

__

“Yeah, I remember that too,” Arlon said, a distinct smirk in his tone. Those heavy footsteps walked a slow circle around Garrett, and he tried not to tremble even though he could feel Arlon’s eyes heating a hole in his back.

__

“So, let me get this straight,” Arlon said at last. “You all but begged me to lock you up, and now you’re begging me to release you a month early?”

__

A shoe appeared under his forehead, nudging his head from the carpet. Garrett slowly raised his eyes to meet his gaze. “Yes, Master.”

__

He flinched when Arlon moved, whip fast, but the grandmaster’s calloused fingers only gripped his jaw hard and gave him a little shake. “Why should I do that?”

__

Garrett shuddered and opened his mouth, but Bri cut him off. “I already heard the ovary cyst story so you don’t have to.”

__

For a split-second, Arlon’s mask slipped. He pegged her with a look that screamed _why are you like this,_ but Bri just smirked. She’d always liked to throw him off his game. 

__

It was a test not to laugh, but Garrett held it together - barely. “It’s been a rough week, Master.”

__

“Apparently.” Arlon grabbed his braid and yanked his head back. The jolt of pain snapped Garrett right back into it. “You’ve got a hell of a conjuration ahead of you tonight, and I’m not sure if two months is enough to get the job done.” 

__

Garrett doubted that. He’d spent two months of Bridgette sucking him to attention before forcing him back into his cage. Two months of her fucking him with her favorite phallus and harness. _Two months_ of her using him for her pleasure while he was denied his own. He was more than ready.

__

“That’s a whole month’s worth of time that you’re robbing from me and your wife,” Arlon continued. “Are you prepared to make all that time up to us?”

__

It was a familiar question. If he said yes, the game continued. If he said no, they checked in and renegotiated. Tonight his answer came quick. “Yes. Master, please, I’ll make it up. Every second.”

__

Arlon humed and loosened his grip, letting Garrett’s eyes drop back to the floor. The grandmaster’s heavy footsteps retreated behind his desk again “We’ll see,” he said. “I still have some things I need to finish up. Bri, would you take him downstairs and get him ready for us?”

__

Bridgette’s much smaller feet tapped across the stone. She grabbed Arlon’s face and pulled him into a heated kiss. Garrett couldn’t help but watch, biting back a whimper of need. Seeing them together never failed to heat his blood.

__

Bri trailed a finger down his chest as she pulled away. “I’ll clean him up first,” she purred. “We’ll meet you downstairs.” 

__

Garrett felt her hand grab his braid before she tugged to get him moving. He stayed on his hands and knees and crawled beside Bridgette as she led him out of Arlon’s office. This late, the halls of the Crux were empty as Bri led him down the stairs towards the baths. 

__

Garrett held his breath until they emerged into the steam of the baths and found all nine pools abandoned. Relief made his shoulders sag. With every eye in Streatham already watching him, he didn’t think he could handle one more set tonight.

__

Bridgette guided him past the nine steaming pools to the lone ice bath set near the back. This time of year, it was frigid, and he hesitated at the lip of it. Bridgette’s hands rested on his shoulders. “I know you’re not happy unless you’re working, so I thought I’d wring a few emergency spells out of you.”

__

Garrett let out a miserable little groan. He hated that Bridgette was right. Even now, stripped naked and in the heart of the Crux, his mind was still half in the clinic. It would be good to have a few extra fever killers, just in case. He resigned himself and lowered his head. 

__

Damn but he’d been looking forward to a hot bath. "Yes, Mistress.” 

__

Bridgette pulled his braid and guided him into a gentle kiss. “Good boy. Wash.”

__

He took a few deep breaths, steeled himself, and slid into the icy water. It was always easier if he got it over with quick, but the sudden shock of cold stole his breath away all the same. He sat there for a minute, breathing deep even as his teeth started to chatter. As soon as he got his hands working, he took the bar of soap that Bridgette offered him.

__

Since temperature regulation had become a matter of public health, Garrett had done some experimenting with the cold. Then, after some cajoling and reassuring that he would be fine damnit, he’d convinced Arlon and Bridgette to experiment with him. The end result had been a spell that had quashed the crown prince’s fever while simultaneously introducing all three of them to a new type of play to add to their casting books.

__

“How’s the water?” Bri teased even as she took his hands and slid a focus down every finger. They sparked as they touched his skin, but his fingers were already too numb to feel it. He bathed as quickly and as he could, but Bri tsked when he went to pull himself out. “Wash your hair, too.” 

__

Garrett let out a quiet noise of protest, even though he knew there was no fighting her on it. The decision wasn't up to him tonight. He shivered, teeth chattering, but he did as told. He pulled the tie from the end of his braid before dunking his head under, the cold hitting him like a physical blow. He didn’t so much wash it as he wet it thoroughly before he resurfaced with a gasp. Shaking, he pulled himself from the frigid water. 

__

Bridette came up behind him, and her fingers felt hot enough to scald as she raked them through his wet hair. Garrett moved to kneel automatically as she started combing the long, brown locks. Orc hair grew long and thick and strong, but it took forever to get there. 78 years, and it was barely to his hips. He’d never cut it, and never would, if given the choice. It had been a fight to even let Bri trim the ends, but he had to concede that it kept it all healthy. Now, she was gentle as she ran her oiled fingers through the thick hair to keep it soft before twisting it into a long plait down his back.

__

Even though the baths were hot with steam, he shivered under her hands, losing himself to her touch. It took him a long moment to realize she had finished. He forced his eyes open and found her at the sink, yet when he realized what she was doing, he let out a low moan. She returned a moment later with a filled waterskin and a small wooden funnel.

__

“Bottoms up, love,” she said with a smirk.

__

At least she was getting some satisfaction from his misery. He moaned as he knelt on his front and lifted his ass up, burying his face against his arm. This was never his favorite part of the spell, but it was effective at dropping at his core temperature. During their trial and error, he’d told them to use water straight from the ice pool, but it had caused his stomach to cramp so badly he’d had to stop. They’d learned a lot since that first botched attempt, though it never got easier to submit to.

__

Bridgette slicked the tip of the wooden funnel before sliding it into him. She held the waterskin tight around the other end, and when she squeezed the bag, the water flowed into him. It was a strange, creeping sort of cold instead of the sharp jolt of the bath. It made him shiver all the same.

__

His stomach cramped a little, though the water was just chilly instead of unbearable, and it warmed as Bri continued to fill him. He groaned and clenched his fists even as he relaxed his stomach. The water settled like a weight, filling him until he felt fit to bursting. 

__

"Mistress." His voice came out in a quiet whimper. 

__

Bridgette hushed him gently. "Almost done."

__

Finally, she pulled the little funnel from him. Garrett stayed crouched, his face firmly buried against his arm. "May I please get up, Mistress?"

__

"Yes, you may. Go clean up."

__

Garrett shuffled over to the lavatory and released the water, shivering with humiliation and cold. Enemas had been used medicinally for centuries, yet he still felt a hot stab of shame every time he was subjected to one at the hands of his wife. But Bridgette liked him clean, and he'd never been good at saying no to her.

__

As soon as he was finished, he went back into the baths and sunk to his knees in front of her, eyes lowered. He could almost feel the heat of her gaze boring into his shivering body. Her hand wrapped around his braid to pull his head up, her other hand cupping his cheek. Her skin felt hot, and he leaned into her touch on instinct.

__

"Too cold?” she asked. 

__

Garrett shook his head. They’d dropped his core temperature too low the second time they’d tried this spell, and he’d needed a warm enema, a hot fire and a pile of blankets to get his pulse to strengthen and his shivering to stop. It had taken some convincing to have them try it a third time, but he’d managed. “It’s fine Mistress, thank you.”

__

Bridgette smiled and pressed her lips against his. It sent a jolt through him, like the touch of a hot brand, except he had no urge to pull away. He returned the kiss, shivering even harder.

__

When she pulled back, her thumb stroked his cheek. “We'll take care of you tonight," she promised. Then she grabbed his braid and coaxed him to his feet. He stood, his whole body feeling leaden and heavy from the cold. His thoughts had slowed to a crawl as that familiar sense of calm washed over him. They knew what he needed, and he was happy to surrender to them.

__

Bridette led him out of the baths, and though he knew where they were going, he didn’t quite register the trip. When he blinked again, they were in the dungeon. Bridgette pushed him to his knees before she turned the globes up high, sending light into every corner of the large room.

__

Garrett's shivering only got worse in the cold room. He kept his eyes lowered, body curled in on himself to try and warm up. A moment later, they heard Alron’s heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. 

__

"Let me guess,” Arlon said, his voice suddenly very close. “He wanted to work tonight?"

__

"Shocker, right?" Bridgette teased.

__

Something cold and wet dripped onto Garrett’s shoulder. "Can never leave work behind, can you?” Arlon asked. It was awfully ironic, coming from him, but Garrett doubted he’d be able to say as much around his chattering teeth.

__

“I had a feeling you’d bring your work here, so I made something for you,” Arlon said and held out the wet parcel for Garrett to see. He pulled the cloth back to reveal a thick, clear phallus that dripped as it melted.

__

Garrett’s eyes went wide as a shudder wracked his body. Arlon looked pleased. He held the phallus out to him. “I carved you a mold myself. Filled it with water and set it out this afternoon. Good thing it’s been so godsdamned cold out or else this never would have frozen.” Arlon pushed the tip of it against his lips. “Why don’t you give it a taste.”

__

Garrett whimpered at the cold, but knew it would only get worse. Even so, he obediently opened his mouth. The shock of cold made him grunt all the same, and it was a fight not to recoil. It numbed his tongue and lips as Arlon fucked his mouth shallowly. His tusks scraped across the underside, and it took everything in him not to pull away. 

__

Thankfully, Arlon didn’t keep him at it for long. He pulled the rod free and Garrett gasped, water and spit dripping from his frozen lips. “You know, when I told Bri what I was making, she didn’t think you’d be able to handle it, so we made a little wager on how long you’ll last with this inside of you,” Arlon said with a grin. “Lets see if you can win me a little money tonight.”

__

Garrett shuddered hard, a miserable little sound escaping him. They’d used ice in the past, but never quite like this. He had a feeling Bridgette might be right - he was already so cold, and the thought of that thing inside of him made me quiver. The focuses around his fingers sparked as he moved to his hands and knees and lifted his ass.

__

Arlon nudged his knees apart. “Show me where you want me to put this,” he ordered. Garrett shivered even as he reached back to grab the mounds of his ass, exposing his hole. A drop of cold lotion landed on his entrance before Arlon’s finger pushed him into. 

__

The warmth of his touch made Garrett moan in relief and he arched his back, face resting against the cold stone. Arlon was quick about it, spreading him and slicking him, and Garrett couldn’t stop a quiet whimper when he pulled away. Then the cold tip of the phallus pressed against the pucker of his ass, and he couldn’t stop a yelp. 

__

Bridgette chuckled.

__

“Relax,” Arlon ordered.

__

Garrett focused on his breath and forced his muscles to relax as the cold tip slid into him. He groaned, burying his face against the stone as it slid a little deeper. He shivered hard, the cold near unbearable. Every frozen inch that entered him was a test of his endurance. 

__

Arlon started to fuck him shallowly with the unyielding rod, moving it deeper with every thrust. It started to feel good in a distant sort of way, but the cold numbed him, turning the glide of the phallus into a torment. Garrett clenched his teeth, hands pulled to fists as the cold pierced him to his core. “Master,” he groaned. “Please.”

__

But Arlon knew his body just as well as his wife did, and he knew how much he could take. The phallus angled just so, hitting his prostate. Garrett wailed, his cock jumping inside of the cage. His fingers dug into his skin, and it took all of his self control to stay still and take it. The cold was overwhelming, and it turned sharp as Arlon fucked him deeper.

__

“Master please! No more,” he begged.

__

Arlon seated the phallus deep before his warmth pressed against Garrett’s back, keeping him pinned even as he vainly tried to pull himself out from under the other man’s weight. Garrett threw his head back with a tormented wail as Arlon twisted the phallus inside of him. 

__

Pain and pleasure collided in him, breaking him between them. It took only minutes to reduce him to begging, though to Garrett, it felt like a lifetime. Desperate pleas fell from his lips, but Arlon gave a few more deep thrusts before he finally pulled the ice out of him.

__

Garrett sobbed with gratitude and went limp under him. His head spun, and he shivered so hard that he felt like he might come apart at the seams. Then Arlon’s warm embrace wrapped tight around him, pulling him to kneel. “Good boy,” he praised. “So very good.”

__

Bridgette appeared in front of him, straddling his legs as she pressed her warmth against his chest. She took his hands and kissed them each before plucking the glowing focuses from around his fingers. His numb fingers hadn’t even felt them charge. “Have you had enough work for tonight?”

__

Garrett’s teeth chattered too hard for him to answer, so he just nodded and buried his face against her neck. Arlon’s chuckle rumbled against his back. “We’ll warm you back up.”

__

Arms tightened around Garrett from behind, hot enough that it made his chilled skin ripple. Warm lips pressed against his neck like a brand. Bridgette took his hands and slid them under her shirt. She flinched at his cold touch, but she didn’t allow him to recoil, her grip strong around his wrists. 

__

Instead, she guided his hands around the mounds of her breasts and arched into his touch with a little sigh of pleasure. Garrett kneaded the soft, warm flesh until the feeling returned to his fingers. Then he continued simply because Bridgette allowed him to, though she claimed his lips as her payment. She plundered his mouth, sucking and nipping at his trembling lips.

__

His cold-chilled nerves came alight under their attentions. He arched as Arlon bit down on the skin of his neck, marking him, claiming him. As he threw his head back, Bridgette’s mouth found his exposed throat, her tongue tasting his skin.

__

Between them, he began to thaw. Their warmth leeched the cold out of him, and though he shivered, it was for an entirely different reason. The cage started to feel tight again, and his cock ached in the tight confines. A hand reached down to toy with his trapped balls, and his hips bucked entirely without his permission. He moaned, helpless between them. 

__

Gods damn, but it had been a long two months. 

__

Behind him, Arlon tsked and grabbed his arms. He pulled them behind his back sharply. “You’re nowhere near done for tonight, love.”

__

Metal cuffs closed over his arms, just above his elbows before a sturdy metal pole connected them. Garrett arched his chest to accommodate the strain on his shoulders, feeling the cold bar against his back. He spent so much of his day hunching - over sick beds, over patients - that being forced to bend the opposite direction felt like one big stretch.

__

“No, Master.” They were just getting started. He had a month to make up to them, after all.

__

Bridgette pulled away, and Arlon yanked him to his feet. His legs had melted to puddles at some point in time, but he wasn’t on them long. Arlon grabbed the bar between his arms and used it to maneuver him to the large bed.

__

Garrett landed on his front, his ass hanging off the edge of the side. Arlon’s hand forced his face into the covers as his weight pressed against his back. His legs were kicked apart and Garrett could feel Arlons’ erection through the fabric of his trousers like a promise.

__

A strong hand grabbed his braid and yanked his head back. He shouted more out of surprise than pain, though his scalp started to ache as Arlon held him there. The grandmaster leaned down, lips barely brushing his ear. “You’ve been so negligent these past months,” Arlon murmured. “Do you know how many times your wife has been up to visit with you working these long hours?”

__

Garrett had been there for two visits, and knew for certain of 10 more. Bridgette liked to tell him about it when she was taking him with her favorite phallus and harness. She’d whisper it into his ear. Tell him all the things they had done to each other while his useless cock was locked away in that cage. 

__

Then there were the times Garrett had sent a runner to let her know he had to sleep over at the clinic. He was sure she went then, too. She didn’t like to sleep alone.

__

A hand clamped over his mouth, and Arlon answered for him. “Too many.”

__

It was an accusation, but Garrett growled against his hand. What else was he supposed to do? When the bad cases looked like they were a cough away from falling into Quietus, he had to stay. If there was any spell on his necklace that could help, he had to try.

__

Arlon breath sighed his neck before he pressed a soft kiss against his skin. “I know it can’t be helped,” he murmured. “But you have to take care of yourself too. You’re not expendable either.” 

__

The fight went out of Garrett with a quiet groan. He knew Arlon was right, but translating a good idea into action was hard. There was always one more thing he should do, one one person to check on. Arlon seemed to read his mind. “But since you can’t seem to manage that, we’ll take care of you.”

__

Arlon’s hand lifted from over his mouth. The shiver that racked Garrett’s body felt like gratitude. “Thank you, Master.”

__

“However,” Arlon said. “I think you owe your wife a proper apology.”

__

Garrett’s breath sounded loud in his own ears. “Yes, Master.” He watched as Bridgette crawled onto the bed, her clothes gone. Seeing her naked never failed to send a jolt of lust through him, but after two long months, Garrett strained against the cuffs, desperate to get to her.

__

Arlon chuckled. “Your husband’s missed you, Bri.”

__

Bridgette smirked as she crawled towards them, her silver hair flowing over her shoulders. Her soft hand cupped his cheek before she barely brushed his lips in a kiss. “Did you now?”

__

Garret whimpered. “Yes, Mistress.”

__

She hummed, unconvinced. “Make me believe it.”

__

Garrett’s pulse roared in his ears. “Yes, Mistress.”

__

Bridgette laid on the bed in front of him and spread her legs invitingly, a finger trailing down between her wet folds. The hand on his braid let go, and Garrett followed her finger with his tongue. She angled her hips to meet him even as she took control of his braid to guide him. Wherever she directed him, he worshipped, pulling her petals into his mouth, gently nibbling them with teeth and tusk.

__

Bridgette’s moans were music, and he felt a bit of a thrill to know that he had been missed, too. Arlon’s tongue could get the job done, but he’d been the one to split his for his corpimancy mastery. The two forks could move independent of each other, and he’d use it to undo both of them more than once. Now, he used it to tease around the hood of her clit.

__

Bridgette cried out and held his head there as her hips rocked and twitched. Then, Garrett felt his legs pushed further apart. Cold lotion slicked his hole, and he gasped between Bridgette’s thighs, only to have her force his head down, smothering him to silence. 

__

Arlon’s cock teased him for a moment, the tip just entering him. The grip on his arm bar tightened, and Garrett whimpered, feeling lightheaded between Bridgette’s legs. She let him up for just a moment, and Arlon used the opportunity to sink into him, forcing Garrett’s breath back out on a cry of bliss.

__

Garrett had warmed up, but Arlon’s cock still felt large and hot sheathed in his body. Bridgette didn’t give him a chance to recover before she pulled his head down again. Gods, this was what he had craved. When he was between them, he could lose himself. Let go of the titles, the rumors. He only existed as the object of their pleasure, and the role was a relief to fill.

__

Arlon started to fuck him, slow at first, rolling his hips to push his length deep. It wrung a low moan made out of the man, and Garrett shivered as his eyes slid closed. Bridgette’s sweet taste filled his mouth, and he felt her thighs tighten around his head as she cried out in pleasure. Garrett’s tongue massaged her rippling walls as she ground her slit against his face, wringing every last second out of her orgasm.

__

She slumped under him, and released his head enough to give him a wordless pat for a job well done. Garrett nuzzled into her hand before Arlon grabbed the bar connecting his arms and yanked, pulling him to a kneel on the edge of the bed. The man’s cock sunk deep into him, and Garrett cried out, jolting back into himself.

__

“Do you think he’s earned his freedom yet?" Arlon asked even as his free hand wrapped around Garrett's throat. The half-orc sagged against Arlon's shoulder even as the grandmaster thrust deep again, making his cock jump inside the cage.

__

"No," Bridgette said. "Not yet."

__

Garrett moaned miserably as Bridgette cupped his testicles. He vainly tried to buck into her hand, but Arlon's cock speared him to the spot. Bridgette grinned up at him as she squeezed and kneaded the tender flesh, the pressure just shy of painful. She slid down and ran her tongue over the wrinkled skin of his balls before teasing his cock through the bars of his cage.

__

Garrett wailed as Arlon thrust deep, cock dragging against that spot inside of him hard enough that his vision sparked. His cock began to leak as Bridgette teased him through his cage with her tongue and fingers, stroking and pinching.

__

The need for release burned away the last of the cold. Arlon set a punishing pace, fucking him hard and deep, all but pulling Garrett onto him with every thrust. It had been two long months, and Arlon’s cock was bliss as it stretched him, piercing him to his core. Garrett felt like kindling about to catch fire as the pressure built behind his testicles. 

__

Both Arlon and Bridgette had done their part to train him. They’d milked his prostate to allow him to cum from penetration alone, but that wasn’t in Bridgette’s plans tonight. Instead, as soon as Garrett felt himself getting close, Bridgette clamped her fingers around his testicles and tugged them down. 

__

Garrett wailed even as Arlon tightened his grip around his throat. “Not yet,” Arlon growled into his ear. “You don’t cum until I tell you to.”

__

Arlon’s length slid out of him, and Garrett whimpered as he felt his hole try and fail to close, muscles twitching at the loss. He was left empty and wanting as Bridgette loosened her grip, his testicles _aching._ He was shoved forward onto the bed a moment later, landing face down with his caged cock trapped under him.

__

He was pushed onto his back a second later, his arms still bound behind him. Someone touched his cock, and with no one holding him back, he arched and bucked his hips against the gentle hand. A stinging slap landed against his cheek, jolting him back into himself. He shivered hard but remembered his manners and lay still.

__

“He’s getting desperate,” Arlon chuckled. Garrett heard the rush of water and glimpsed the grandmaster cleaning his still-hard cock at the sink in the corner. “Shame we’re not done with him yet.”

__

Bridgette straddled his waist as she grinned down at him, gently stroking the handprint she had left on his cheek. “Let’s see how he does with the cage off,” Bridgette purred. “We can always lock him back up without finishing if he misbehaves.”

__

Garrett whimpered but stayed still, his eyes wide. He knew and dreaded what came next. Arlon walked back over, clothes fully discarded, his impressive cock hard, and a shiny silver key in hand. 

__

It took all of Garrett's self control to stay still as Arlon slid the key into the little lock on his cage. Gentle hands slid the metal off, and Garrett's cock sprung free. It didn't take more than Bridgette's gentle touch to bring him fully erect, and he whimpered miserably. At least with his cock locked away, they didn't have access to it either. Now, he was fully exposed and vulnerable to whatever torments they chose for him.

__

Bridgette teased the throbbing tip of his cock even as she pulled out a small length of thin rope. She straddled his chest, back to him and started to tie his cock and balls. She wove it around his shaft and testicles before pulling it snug. The tie kept his testicles forced away from his body, and he knew from experience that he wouldn't be able to orgasm with them like this. He let out an anguished little moan as she tied the rope off before giving the tip of his cock a teasing little kiss. 

__

Garrett's arms ached from behind secured behind him, but the soft bed helped absorb some of the discomfort. Bridgette didn’t stay on top of him for long, either. As soon as she finished tying him, she moved down between his legs, smirking as she brushed his painfully hard cock with feather light touches.

__

The bed dipped as Arlon knelt next to him. A gentle hand touched the mark that Bridgette had left on his cheek before reaching up to his braid again. “You’ve been neglecting me, too,” Arlon said. He yanked hard enough that Garrett gasped, arching as pain jolted through his scalp. Arlon caught his open lips in a punishing kiss.

__

Garrett melted under him, stunned by the intensity of it. Abused by teeth before soothed with tongue and lips. When Arlon pulled away, Garrett was panting, eyes half-closed. Arlon grabbed his braid and pulled Garrett’s head towards his cock.

__

“I think you owe me a property apology as well.”

__

Garrett obediently opened his mouth, and the grip on his hair tightened. He met Arlon’s cock eagerly, sucking his length into his mouth. Arlon moaned appreciatively as Garrett’s split tongue worked it’s magic on him as well, gripping his shaft before teasing his head. A quiet swear passed Arlon’s lips before he tightened his grip on Garrett’s braid and thrust deeper. 

__

Garrett’s eyes slid closed in concentration as he opened his throat. Arlon’s size was no easy thing to accommodate, though they’d trained him on that front too. Even so, Arlon could still surprise him, but tonight, it was Bridgette’s turn. The heat of her mouth shattered his concentration when it suddenly enveloped his cock.

__

Garrett gagged, and Arlon pulled away before shaking his braid roughly. “Is that how you apologize?” he asked. 

__

“No, Master!”

__

It was the grandmaster that looked down at him now. The caster who could unmake him - break him down and remold him like clay. The man who didn’t suffer mistakes, even if that mistake had everything to do with Bridgette’s lips dragging up the side of his cock, tongue just barely teasing his flesh.

__

It was a losing situation, and Arlon seemed to know it. He smirked before he leaned down. Garrett braced, expecting another attack on his lips, but instead, Arlon kissed his forehead. “I’ll remind you how to properly apologize.”

__

The gag slid into his mouth, forcing his jaws apart. Garrett moaned around the ring as Arlon tightened the leather behind his head. Arlon straddled his shoulders before guiding his cock into Garrett’s forced-open mouth just as Bridgette swallowed his length.

__

Garrett shouted, and no amount of long trained self-control could stop him from bucking. Bridgette rode his hips while Arlon kept him pinned as his cock thrust deep into his mouth. The persistent lap of Bridgette’s tongue turned his cock and angry purple. Tears leaked from his eyes as Arlon fucked his throat, setting a pace that he’d feel the next day - if he could talk at all.

__

Arlon brought his hips to Garrett’s nose, smothering him, choking him, before letting up again, his pace never slowing. Bridgette started to speed up, her tongue circling the swollen tip of his cock until he screamed around Arlon, legs kicking helplessly. Bridgette simply pulled her mouth away and pinned his legs with her weight before swallowing him to the root.

__

Between the two of them, Garrett’s attention was hopelessly split. He couldn’t keep up. Couldn’t do anything more than accept it. Lost between them, his mind went blissfully, euphorically quiet. He didn’t know how long they continued, and it didn’t matter. He was theirs to use as they saw fit. They would take care of him.

__

His hips rolled under Bridgette, a desperate plea. He clenched his eyes shut and was smothered again as Arlon sheathed his cock deep. Garrett felt him swell and braced as Arlon emptied his seed down his throat.

__

Bridgette’s mouth pulled away from his cock a second later, and Garrett wailed hoarsely, saliva leaking from the corners of his forced-open mouth. He let out a desperate sob as he arched his hips, searching for her. Mindless with need.

__

Their voices cut through his fog.

__

“Has he earned it now, love?”

__

He could hear Bridgette’s smile as she said. “Yes.”

__

Someone pushed him to sit just as someone else touched his testicles. He arched back, his head resting on Arlon’s shoulder. The grandmaster loosened the gag and let it fall. “You’ve been very good tonight,” Arlon murmured against his neck. “Are you ready to finish, love?”

__

“Yes! Master, please, _please-”_

__

Arlon slid a hand over his mouth, muffling his broken sob as Bridgette finished untying his balls and shaft. A moment later, the bar securing his arms released. They fell limp to his sides, tingling with pins and needles. His cock throbbed in time with every beat of his heart. 

__

He moaned as Arlon pulled him back against his chest. He was moved to his knees, so they rested on either side of Arlon's lap. Bridgette pressed against his front, trapping his painfully erect cock between them.

__

"He's been so very good for us," Bridgette purred against his lips. She draped a necklace of uncharged focuses around his neck before guiding his hand around his cock. She poured lotion onto his tip, letting it drip down his hand. 

__

Arlon's chuckle rumbled against his back. "I think he's earned it."

__

Garrett gasped as his hand found his erection. His tingling fingers felt like they belonged to someone else as they wrapped around his girth. Bridgette chuckled and reclaimed his mouth even as Arlon pressed two fingers into his stretched hole. Garrett took it as the permission it was and started stroking his length. 

__

"So good," Bridgette murmured against his lips. "Always so good."

__

His cock jumped, tip leaking. Arlon's fingers found that spot inside of him, petting him in long, firm strokes. Garrett’s hips jumped, a low wail of pleasure escaping him. "We'll take care of you," Arlon murmured, his other arm tightening around his chest. 

__

Bridgette draped her arms behind his shoulders, kissing him deeply while still giving his hand enough room to work. Garrett's strokes sped up even as the focuses sparked. "You've earned it," she whispered. "You deserve this."

__

Garrett couldn't argue. Not with them. Heat built at the base of his cock, and Arlon's fingers stoked to a fire. He arched in-between them with a cry of bliss. "Please! Mistress! Master!"

__

Arlon's chuckle rumbled against his ear. "Cum for us, Garrett."

__

He was ever obedient. His orgasm rocked through him, his body clenching as the waves of heat coursed through him. His cry of release roared through the quiet room, a sound of pure relief. His vision went fuzzy, every muscle clenching as the pleasure raced through him like a lightning strike. 

__

It seemed to last an eternity before Garrett slumped between them, sobbing softly with relief and gratitude and love. Bridgette's arms tightened around him as Arlon's fingers slid free. He collapsed, a broken thing, but both of them were there to hold him until he could pick up the pieces of himself. 

__

Quiet praise trickled into his ears like the murmur of a river. They called him beautiful and capable and so very, very good. It made him sob all the harder as he broke open like a dam. In the wake of the physical release, the mental release crashed hot on its tail. 

__

He let it all out. Let himself feel the grief of losing yet another person, the elation of sending someone home, the admission of just how godsdamned tired he was. It all came flooding out, but Bridgette and Arlon held onto him tightly, ballasts in the sea of emotions.

__

He wasn't sure how long it took to pass, but when it did, he felt wonderfully, blissfully empty. Body, mind and spirit placid in the wake of the storm. 

__

"You're alright, love," Bridgette promised. 

__

"We've got you," Arlon rumbled. 

__

"We're right here."

__

He sank into them, letting his eyes slide closed. It was so easy to get lost between them, so easy to trust. They never failed to take care of him.

__


	3. Olbric/Cancassi/Margeurite - Divination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olbric tries divination for the first time. He regrets his decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here is an extra goodie this week! There was an anonymous requester on Literotica who requested Olbric doing divination. Problem is, Olbric is NOT a divination wizard, so I figured I'd write out the reason for that. This story has been available elsewhere for quite a few weeks now, so if you want early access to extra stories and behind the scenes material, be sure to check out my Twitter @AletheaFaust to see how to get it! Thanks for reading all!

“Give divination a try,” they had said.

“It’ll be _fun,”_ they insisted.

Well, Olbric had learned two things in the past few minutes. It was that divination was certainly _not_ fun, and Cancassi was a dirty liar. 

As soon as the silvery substance had closed over his head, he was struck by how bad of an idea this was. The stuff trapped him like stone, not an inch of give anywhere. But worse than that, it closed him off from the rest of the world. Blocked his ears, covered his eyes, gagged his mouth. He couldn’t twitch, couldn’t even wiggle a toe. Yet the longer he was in it, the more it felt like the silver wasn’t just holding him, but crushing him. 

Ten minutes was what he’d agreed to, but hindsight came fast to kick him in the ass. He should have said 5 minutes. Or none, actually, because he was just a few seconds away from completely losing his shit. 

His chest heaved. Panic crept at the edges of his mind. Then, he started hearing voices. A slow-building cacophony that murmured at him, all vying for his attention like the inner monologue of a madman. Except one of the voices, he recognized.

His ama was barely a whisper in the din, but the jolt of hearing his native tongue hit him like an open-handed slap to the head. It had been a year and a half since he’d last heard it. A _year and a half_ since he had seen his home. 

The realization overwhelmed him all at once, and trapped in the silver, he had nothing to distract himself from the hurt. Couldn’t quip to hide it, couldn’t obfuscate to take his mind somewhere else, couldn’t push it away. He just had to experience it, deal with it, and he felt tears build under his closed eyelids.

Then, a soft hand slid up between his legs to cup his balls, and he yelped in surprise. He jerked so hard that a muscle in his leg started to cramp and commenced completely, utterly losing his shit. He shouted into the gag of silver, a long string of muffled swears and pleas, but at least the pain distracted him from everything else. It radiated up his left leg, stretching all the way from his knee to the arch of his foot.

The silver was pulled from his mouth a second later, and he wasted no time. “Stopstopstop, ow ow OW, leg cramp, ah - _fuck me_ \- Stop!”

The silver released his head, and the first sound that greeted his unblocked ears was Margeurite’s laughter. The silver sloughed off of him, but not nearly quick enough. He tried to step out of it, only to find that his legs were still trapped. Thankfully, Cancassi was there to steady him before he fell and snapped his legs at the shins. 

Finally, the accursed pillars released him, and he slid to the floor, holding his leg up as the cramp worked its way out. Behind him, Margeurite was still laughing, though Cancassi crouched beside him, looking amused. “Are you alright?”

“Just dealing with my leg trying to revolt,” Olbric hissed through clenched teeth. 

Marguerite hovered into his line of sight as she knelt next to him. "I apologise for laughing. I have never heard a stop quite like that before," she said through a grin. 

Olbric swore and kneaded the muscles in his leg. "I'm going to go ahead and file divination under 'not my kind of magic.' That was _terrible."_

The muscles in his leg finally relaxed, and he laid back with a groan. The cold stone felt so good against his heated skin that he didn’t care that he was laying naked in the middle of the floor. After all that, he needed to spread out, feel the air and space around his limbs. 

“It is certainly not for everyone,” Margeurite said, amusement still coloring her voice. “Can I get you anything?” Her fingers stroked through his loose hair, brushing it behind his ear.

Without warning, tears welled in his eyes all over again. The simple touch was achingly familiar. Something straight out of his childhood. Even though men in Cairish weren’t supposed to grow their hair long, he had always kept his just on the right side of acceptable. It made his father furious, but his ama had always loved it. She used to play with it as she sang him to sleep. After hearing the echo of her voice in the silver, he felt like a raw nerve. 

Olbric lifted his hands to cover his face as the hurt grew, like a flame burgeoned by a stiff breeze. He wanted to hide it, close himself off until he could get it under control again. But Cancassi didn’t let him. Their long-fingered hands grabbed his wrists and pulled them away. “What’s wrong?” they asked gently.

Olbric shook his head and weakly tried to pull his hands free, but Cancassi held tight. “Nothing - it’s nothing.”

“You are a bad liar, Olbric,” Margeurite pointed out. “Did something else happen in the silver?”

Olbric drew in a shuddering breath as he fought back tears. Talking about it couldn’t hurt any more than feeling what he was feeling, could it? Hell, maybe it would even help.

“I heard my mother’s voice,” he said at last. He gave a wet, bitter laugh. “It just made me realize how long I’ve been away from home. How much I miss her.”

Margeurite tsked sympathetically and cupped his cheek. “I’m sorry, Olbric,” she said. “Is there anything we can do?”

Olbric sighed. “There’s nothing for it, is there?” he murmured, though his grin wavered like the fragile thing it was. “No matter much how I miss her, I can’t go home.” Truth be told, he’d probably never see her again.

A weighted silence descended, heavy with unspoken pain. Margeurite continued to stroke his hair, her fingers gentle. “Dream walking lets me check in on my sisters,” she admitted, breaking the quiet. “I can’t talk to them, but it is something, at least.”

Cancassi pulled Olbric’s hands up and brushed his fingers with soft lips. “You know, part of why I wanted to try divination was to see if I could get a glimpse of Maevan,” they said. “Haven’t had any luck yet, but I’m working on it.”

Olbric swallowed and clenched his eyes shut. They were all strangers in a strange land, weren’t they? Each one of them so very far away from home. At least he wasn’t alone with that particular hurt. 

“You know,” Margeurite said. “If you heard her voice in just a few minutes, you might be able to get Sight of her if you’d like to try again?”

Knowing that made the reality of his failure sting worse. “I-I can’t,” he said, shaking his head. “It felt like the silver was trying to crush me. I couldn’t breathe.”

Cancassi let out a sympathetic little noise before they leaned down to press their lips to his. He returned the kiss through a sigh, some of the hurt retreating. At least at the Crux, he was accepted for who he was, which is more than he could say for his home.

Cancassi smiled down at him when they parted, one long finger dragging down the bridge of his nose. “Well damn, I was rather looking forward to plundering you,” they said. “But I barely even got to touch.”

Olbric chuckled quietly. "Sorry to put a damper on your plans," he said. The Maeve had a unique gift. They could pull him out of a mood and put him into a different one very effectively. Margeurite had been nice enough to give him an introduction to divination, but maybe she’d be willing to try and cast something else with them? God knew he agreed to this to get an orgasm strong enough to give him visions, and even if he had failed the vision quest part, he sure wouldn’t mind the orgasm. 

"You know… we could try putting you only part of the way in," Margeurite suggested. "I have never tried it before so I do not know if the spell will work, but… the silver has a way of surprising you."

Hope welled in his chest. If he could even get a glimpse of home, it might be worth it. But the feel of the silver crushing the air out of his chest was still fresh in his mind. "How much would it have to cover?" Olbric asked warily.

Margeurite shrugged. "At least your head, I would say. And maybe your arms and legs to keep you grounded. How much are you comfortable with?"

Olbric looked up at the pillars with a sigh. His stomach squirmed uneasily when he realized he was actually considering it. The sound of home had left him aching to hear just a little more. Besides, he could endure a flogging for hours, had been caned until he bled - a few minutes in the damn silver should be nothing!

"Leave my hands free," he said. "I need a way to stop if I can't speak."

"Done," Marguerite agreed. "Can we put you in a little bit to see what you’re comfortable with? I will not cover your head until I have your permission.”

Olbric let out a breath, his nerves already thrumming. "Alright. Give me a second.” He got to his feet and took a second to push the unease aside. He stretched, working out the muscles of his legs before moving onto his arms. 

All the while, he felt Cancassi’s copper gaze boring into him. He smirked over his shoulder before bending at the waist to give a full view. Margeurite rolled her eyes but Cancassi’s smirk just grew more pronounced. 

“You _are_ looking for a plundering, aren’t you?” they teased.

Olbric chuckled as he straightened, shooting a coy look over his shoulder. “Who, me? How dare you.”

Cancassi’s laugh sounded like bell chimes. They draped their arms around his shoulders before pushing him back between the two pillars, their hands soft against his bare skin. "My desire to plunder you well and thoroughly won’t supersede your comfort level. We'll drop it the second you say so," they promised before nipping at his ear lobe. “Though if you stop, I’ll just have to take you back to my room to finish the job.”

Olbric shivered as they pulled away. Well, if nothing else, at least he had that to look forward to. He drew in a breath and raked his hands through his hair, pushing it behind his ears. It’d be long enough for him to tie it back soon - a day he was very much looking forward to. This awkward in-between phase was driving him mad. 

Margeurite put her hand on the pillar. “Ready?

Olbric sighed and shook his limbs out like he could jog the nerves out of him. “Okay. I’m ready.”

Margeurite smiled. “We’re right here,” she promised. Under her hand, the silver trickled out from the pillars to wash over his feet. It locked him to the floor, and he swore before grabbing onto Cancassi for support. Even without the wretched stuff covering his head, it still had a way of putting him off balance. 

The silver creeped up his shins and over his knees. His chest tightened with fear, but stubbornness made him hold on until it was halfway up his thighs to keep him from falling over and hurting something. “That's enough there,” he said, voice tight.

Margeurite kept her hand on the pillar, but stopped the silver’s steady creep. "Can I try your wrists? I'll keep your fingers free," she promised.

Olbric let out a long breath. He shook his arms out again before letting them fall to his side. "Okay."

Under Margeurite’s precise control, the silver reached from his thighs to his wrists, encircling them before creeping up his arms. His hands were kept free, which made it a little easier to relax. He let the silver get to his shoulders before he stopped her again. 

Olbric tugged against the strange substance, but without it fully covering him, it felt like there was the tiniest bit of give. The silver didn’t cover his chest either. It almost felt like an abjuration bind, though the silver held far stronger than ropes could. It held him stable without crushing him. This, he could handle.

"That's alright," he said as he let out a small breath of relief. "But keep my feet on the ground, please."

Cancassi chuckled as they stroked his chest. "You don't like the floating disorientation? I kind of liked the floating disorientation."

"Says the Maeve who smokes skunkweed for fun," Olbric shot back.

"That's because it _is_ fun," Cancassi said.

“If you can call insatiable hunger and paranoia a good time, then sure Cass. Go off.” The one time Cancassi had convinced him to try it, they’d snuck into the kitchens, stolen a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, and a whole block of cheese before devouring all of it. Then Olbric had spent the rest of the night convinced they would be kicked out once the rest of the Crux found out about it. The empty wine bottle was found in the alcove of the Illusion tower, but it took a couple days more to trace it back to them. Arlon hadn’t kicked them out, obviously, but he did give them both a stern Talking To about the risks of drug use and casting.

Margeurite did something with the silver, and Olbric yelped as it forced his legs to bend. His knees came to rest in the air above the ground, like he was kneeling on some invisible support. “How’s this? At least we can save your knees from getting sore.” 

“Fuck me, at least warn me before you go all puppet master!” Olbric said.

Margeurite chuckled, but her hand stayed on the pillar. “I’m going to move your arms,” she said obligingly before she kissed his temple, her horn brushing his cheek. His arms were pulled behind him, wrists held near the glowing magiline pillars by the immovable silver. It forced him to lean forward, his head hanging. 

"Oh now that's a pretty pose," Cancassi said as they circled behind Olbric. His ass was on full display, held up by nothing but the silver around his legs, trapping him there. The thudding of his nervous heart didn’t do anything to stop the rush of arousal that shot through him. 

"Is that a good enough plundering position?" Margeurite asked, amusement coloring her voice.

Cancassi let out a musical little hum as their hand trailed over Olbric’s hip. The not-so-innocent touch made his skin shiver. "That is an _excellent_ plundering position."

“Don’t say I’ve never done anything for you,” Olbric said through a smirk. The silver didn’t cover him enough to stop him from waggling his ass at the Maeve. Cancassi chuckled before delivering a sharp smack to his right cheek, and the spark of pain immediately put him in a mood. The anxious nerves took a half-turn towards anticipation.

Margeurite let go of the pillar, and Olbric relaxed a degree further when he realized that they were done with it for now. Her hands cupped his chin and lifted his head. “How do you feel?” she asked, her thumbs stroking down the lines of his jaw.

He quivered under the touch, and even though he was half expecting it, he still yelped when Cancassi indulged in another stinging swat against his ass. A giddy little laugh bubbled out of him. “Better now,” he admitted. "Though I think I'll need some warming up before I'm ready to let you cover my head."

As if on cue, Cancassi slapped his ass again, harder this time. Olbric couldn’t stop a moan. He could feel the heated outline of every one of the Maeve's long fingers left on his skin. 

"Ah," Margeurite chuckled. Something mischievous passed over her face. "You _are_ making an awful lot of noise, though. I think I should quiet that mouth before Cancassi reddens your skin proper, don't you?”

Olbric groaned as her hand touched the pillar again. But his thumbs were free to stop, his eyes free to see. Going with a gag wouldn't be so bad, would it?

"We both know he won't shut up otherwise," Cancassi pointed out before cracking another harsh spank against his ass. 

Olbric jerked with a shout, the pain going right to his head. He felt giddy with it, like he'd just swallowed a mouthful of fine wine, and he craved another taste. "You're right," he said, breathless. "You better shut me up."

Margeurite smirked before she reached out to touch the pillar to his left. He felt the silver at his shoulders creep up his neck. It held him like a posture collar, keeping his neck straight before it rolled over his chin and pushed into his mouth. He gasped as it pooled between his teeth, forcing his lips to open invitingly.

Margeurite grinned as she traced his lower lip with her free hand. "Is that alright?" she asked.

Cancassi spanked him again, making his skin tingle with the sting of it. He jerked, but the extra hold of the silver around his neck well and thoroughly trapped him. He couldn’t nod his head, but he could still breathe, still see. He let out a muffled little "uh huh" around the gag of silver.

Margeurite beamed at him even as her thumb found its way into his mouth. It was a special kind of torment not to be able to suck on it. "Good boy," she purred. "Let’s get you warmed up."

Olbric heard Cancassi's musical little chuckle and braced himself. Their hands had always looked so delicate, but in spite of their willowy appearance, they hit hard when they slapped against his ass again. 

Olbric grunted into the gag when another hit fell, barely giving him a chance to catch his breath. Heat throbbed in the spot only to jolt hotter as Cancassi struck again and again. Every nerve in his body came alight under the attack. His head swam even as his cock hardened. 

“Skies, you are such a pain slut,” Margeurite murmured even as she pulled her wet fingers from his mouth and reached down to grab his length. Olbric let out a muffled whine of need as he vainly tried to thrust into her hand. She kept her touch maddeningly light, and for a second, Olbric was so concentrated on trying to coax her into _doing_ something that he almost forgot about Cancassi.

The Maeve was quick to remind him of their presence with a sharp slap. Except whatever they struck him with was most certainly _not_ a hand. It smacked hard and solid before another landed in quick succession. He wasn’t sure how the Maeve snuck a paddle in without him noticing, but he was grateful they did. They heated his skin with a few more strikes before those long fingers grabbed the sore mounds of his ass. 

He tried to pull away, but he couldn’t do much more than wiggle. Cancassi's weight settled against his back, and he felt their lips brush the shell of his ear. "Feeling warmed up yet?" they purred. As if to assure that he was, one long finger trailed down to tease at the pucker of his hole.

Margeurite pulled the silver from his mouth to allow him to answer. He gasped, trying to get a lucid thought together. The ovisari was not helping on that front as her free hand stroked leisurely down his shaft. For anyone else, the moment of reprieve would have been welcome, but Olbric would have preferred the continued reddening of his ass to this slow, teasing torture.

“Alright, alright!” Olbric moaned. “I surrender.”

Margeurite chuckled as her thumb stroked over the head of his cock, wringing a desperate little groan out of him. “Are you sure?” she asked.

Cancassi chose that moment to slide their finger into him, sealing the deal. Olbric swore under his breath, a full bodied shudder rushing through him. “I’m sure,” he said.

Margeurite smiled and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “How long?” she asked.

Cancassi slid a second finger into him, making it damnably hard to concentrate. “How long did I manage the first time?”

Margeurite hums. “Three minutes, I think?” 

“That’s _it?”_ It had felt like a lifetime.

Margeurite chuckles. “You can stop whenever you need to,” she said. “But how about we don’t go longer than half an hour. I don’t want to push you too far today. You’re already doing so well,” she purred. Her hand pressed against the pilar. “Ready?”

Olbric moaned as Cancassi scissored their long fingers, stretching him gently. “Ready,” he panted. He hoped to God he wasn’t lying. If he had to stop before finishing, he was sure his balls might actually revolt right off his body.

The silver crept into his mouth again before sliding up higher. It covered his nose, his eyes, pooling in his ears before it closed over the top of his head. Cancassi’s fingers never stopped their slow exploration of him, reaching deep even as their other hand gripped his sore ass. He groaned appreciatively, and wagged his hips as best as he could.

With his eyes blocked, he wasn’t sure who took up the paddle, but Cancassi’s fingers never stopped even as another crack landed against his sensitive skin. He shuddered and pushed his ass back, begging for more. The paddle wielder obliged, and a flurry of fast strikes landed against his left cheek. They went on until he squealed and tried vainly to wiggle away. Even then, the paddle only gave him a second before switching to his other side.

All the while, Cancassi’s fingers plundered him, thrusting and stroking before a third pushed in. It was enough to drive him mad. Their thrusts remained slow and teasing, filling him, stretching him in a gentle torture completely at odds to what was happening to the rest of his ass.

A hand wrapped around his straining cock, and he shouted into the gag, hips bucking. The silver held him fast, constricting, tightening. He jerked a little harder as another strike snapped against his ass, but there was no escaping. The silver started to tighten around him, stopping him from pulling a proper breath in. Anticipation flashed to panic in between heartbeats. His thumbs flew up.

Immediately the silver lifted from his eyes and fell out of his mouth. It took a second longer for it to free the rest of his head and neck. “Damnit!” he gasped. Panic faded to disappointment like a fire dimming to embers. It smouldered hot in his chest. 

“Hush.” Margeurite let go of the pillar and knelt in front of him. She cupped his face as he fought back tears. “You did all you could, Olbric.”

He couldn’t meet her eyes. He felt silly and skittish and so _fucking randy_ he was having a hard time sorting through everything else. Cancassi’s weight settled against his back, their willowy arms wrapping around his waist. He was still held by the silver, but it was their warm, comforting touches that helped him feel secure. He trembled between them, burying his face against Margeurite’s neck as Cancassi peppered light kisses down his spine.

“Are you alright?” Margeurite asked at last.

Olbric was suddenly aware of how nice she smelled, how hot Cancassi’s body felt draped against his back. “Fuck me, I just want to cum,” he moaned. Dissecting and organizing such messy, complicated emotions when his ass still throbbed from a beating was not going to happen. He just needed to get through one thing at a time. “Please?”

He could feel Cancassi’s smile as the Maeve nipped his neck. The shock of pain helped ground him a little bit. “Well, since you asked so nicely,” they purred.

Marguerite chuckled as her fingers twined in his hair. “Are you sure?” 

He trembled. “I’m sure.”

"Can we keep you like this?" Cancassi asked.

Apparently having his head and chest covered were the deal breakers. This, he could handle. “Yes.”

Besides, Cancassi was right; it put him in an excellent plundering position. Olbric could feel their hard cock through the fabric of their skirt. The Maeve wasted no time and something that was certainly not their fingers slid into him. It wasn’t a cock either, and he moaned as he felt the cool glide of the glass phallus entering him. Gentle ridges adorned the sides of it, and he shuddered as they massaged him on the way in. “Fucking hell, did you sneak an entire equipment bag into this room without me noticing?” he asked breathlessly.

“I might have,” Cancassi chuckled. “And I intend to use you to dirty them all.” They eased the toy deeper into him, and Olbric felt every bump on the surface of the thing. Gooseflesh shivered over his skin, and he let his head hang with a whimper as they started to fuck him slowly. 

Margeurite grabbed his cock again, and he tried to jerk his hips into her hand with little success. The silver held him tight, but he was grateful for the small amount of freedom to squirm between them. They continued until he was gasping and writhing between them, his end catching up quick.

“Oh fuck,” he gasped.

Marguerite tsked and released his length. Olbric wailed even as Cancassi pulled the toy from him, dragging every ridge through him all over again. He could feel the Maeve smirk as they laid against his back, tracing patterns over the heated skin of his chest with their long fingers. “You didn’t think you’d be getting off that easy, did you?” they purred against his neck.

Olbric moaned and let his head hang again. “Yeah, I kinda did,” he says, his voice shaking. 

Marguerite chuckled. “We’re still going to give you the full divination experience,” she teased. “But without the silver, now we get to listen to you beg.”

He pursed his lips, but couldn’t quite stop a moan. Sweat already beaded on his skin, and he shouted as Cancassi delivered another hard spank to his reddened ass, relighting the fire that had been given a second to cool. His cock jumped on impact, and he pushed his hips back as much as he could, silently begging for more.

"I think someone wants the paddle again," Cancassi purred. Out of the corner of his eye, Olbric watched the Maeve wrap their fingers around the wooden handle and trembled. "What do you say, Olbric?"

"Please," he whispered.

Something smooth pressed against his hole, and he gasped. "What was that?" Cancassi asked smugly.

Whatever it was pushed in a little deeper and he groaned. The handle, he realized. Cancassi was fucking him with the handle of the paddle. "Please!" 

Cancassi hummed thoughtfully as they drew the handle back before pushing it in deeper. "How about this," they said. "I want you to count the number of smacks I give you. If you can count to 30 without losing track, you'll get to finish, but if you lose track, we start over. Deal?"

They twisted the handle inside of him, making his hips buck. "Fuck, deal!"

"Excellent," Cancassi said smugly. The handle was pulled from him before something smooth and blunt replaced it. "You'll also get to try out this new plug of mine."

Olbric shuddered as the smooth glass bulb slid into him. It settled into place, filling him and making his hole twitch around it. Cancassi's hand stroked over his sensitized skin, and gooseflesh broke out anew. "Ready?" they asked.

Olbric gave his hips an inpatient little wiggle. "Get on with it already!"

Cancassi chuckled, but didn’t waste time as they brought the paddle down hard. “One!” Olbric yelped. Margeurite chuckled and grabbed his length again, pumping him steadily. His hips jerked as another strike landed. “Two!” 

His skin burned, but no hotter than the rest of him. He thrust into Margeurite’s hand as best as he could even as another strike landed. “Ah, fuck me - three!” he gasped, pain radiating from his abused backside. 

A particularly sharp one caught him just where his thighs met his ass, making tears prick at the corner of his eyes. “Four!” He felt lightheaded, floating just outside of himself though he came crashing back hard when the next strike landed. “Five!”

Then, in the moment in between strikes, Cancassi touched the base of the plug. Olbric shouted as the thing seemingly dissolved inside of him, turning into so many twisting marbles that caressed him from the inside out. Another strike landed against his abused ass as Margeurite’s thumb stroked over the leaking head of his cock. He wailed before he managed to shout, “Six!”

Cancassi chuckled and gave him a moment, their hand cool as it stroked over his heated skin. “You’re better at this than I expected, Olbric,” they purred, but Olbric was saved from attempting an answer as the thing inside of him hit a good spot. He gasped, arching as he vainly tried to thrust into Margeurite’s hand. She softened her touches, just barely teasing his hard, throbbing length.

Another strike landed, and another. He counted them all dutifully even as sweat trickled down his neck. Pain and pleasure warred inside of him, but it wasn’t until he shouted, “fifteen!” that Cancassi decided to play dirty.

“Thirteen,” they said, even as they brought another spank down.

It jumbled Olbric up just enough that he replied with “fourteen” without thought. Marguerite released his cock, and it wasn’t until Cancassi chuckled that he even realized what he’d done. “Ooh, you’re an asshole Cass,” he gasped. “Just the fucking worst.”

Cancassi laughed, and their gentle hand felt like ice against his abused ass. “That’s a shame! You lost count,” they purred. “Guess we have to start over from one.”

Olbric wailed as the thing inside of him changed direction, rolling over his nerves hard enough that his cock jumped. He let his head hang as he panted for breath, a drop of sweat falling from the tip of his nose. His body was alight with pain and pleasure, his thoughts foggy and slow.

“Ready?” Margeurite asked as her fingers grazed the head of his cock again.

“Yes,” he whimpered. Cancassi brough the paddle down again, and somehow it stung worse to start over at “one!”

The Maeve didn’t go easy on him. The second strike caught the back of his thighs and he swore, wiggling his ass to try and ease the sting as he said, “Two!” The bulb was relentless, making gooseflesh break over his sweat slicked skin as it twisted and moved inside of him. The pain of the third strike landed hot as a brand and he whimpered, “Three!”

The fourth strike is what did it, though. Everything started to feel detached in a pleasant sort of way as he slipped into conspace. He no longer thought about his home or his failure with the silver. He floated halfway outside of himself, focussing instead on every strike of the paddle, and counted.

“Ten! Eleven!” The paddle alternated sides, making his ass glow with hard, precise strikes. Cancassi was trying to trick him again, but their words sounded garbled to his ears, and were easy to ignore. He arched against the silver, tugging at his bonds, and kept counting.

“Twenty one! Twenty two!” His cock was leaking under Margeurite’s attentions, his hole aching for something warm and solid to fill it, but that same detachment helped him push the need aside for now. Instead, he kept counting.

When “thirty” finally passed his lips, he was trembling, tears just barely held behind his tightly clenched eyes. When Margeurite cupped his face, he jerked in surprise as he came crashing back into himself. The heat of his abused flesh, the ache in his cock overwhelmed him. He gasped as he nuzzled her hand. “Please, _please,”_ he whimpered.

Cancassi’s lips pressed against his back, their hands gentle as they stroked over his back and ass. Olbric gave a dry sob and arched under the touch, seeing stars as their fingers dragged gently over his abused backside. “Beautiful,” they purred. “You make such a lovely picture, Olbric.”

Margeurite pressed her lips gently to his. He whimpered against her, hips jerking as Cancassi’s long fingers squeezed the sore mounds of his ass. “I think you’ve earned it,” she murmured.

Behind him, Cancassi grabbed the base of the plug. It stopped moving, and he moaned as it was pulled from him, leaving him empty as wanting. The Maeve spread his cheeks and he arched, fizzles of pain radiating from where they touched his abused flesh. “Please, please, please,” he whimpered.

Margeurite reached out and touched the pillar. Olbric felt the silver shift, spreading his legs further and lowering him to the perfect height. 

“You beg so nicely,” Cancassi murmured, and Olbric felt the blunt head of their cock poke at him. Without warning, they thrust hard, and Olbric arched with a shout as their hips bumped flush against his sore ass. Their hands grabbed his waist, pulling him back as they thrust deeper.

Margeurite smiled, peppering kisses along his jaw and neck as she grabbed his cock again. He shouted his gratitude as she worked him, no longer light and teasing. She stroked his swollen, weeping head with her lotion slicked hand before pressing something against the underside of his cock. 

It started buzzing, and Olbric shouted, hips bucking. Cancassi chuckled as one of their hands found its way around his neck, constricting as they pulled his head back. “I warned you that we were going to dirty my toy bag with you,” they murmured before biting the side of his neck.

He was helpless between them, so far gone that he couldn’t form a response. Cancassi rode him mercilessly, hips slapping against his abused ass as Margeurite held the vibrator snug against his perineum, palm massaging his sensitive head. Her other hand wrapped around his balls and tugged down, wringing a desperate shout of him.

“Let me hear you beg one last time,” Margeurite purred.

“Fuck - please Mags, _please!_ I can’t. Oh God - please, let me cum, please, _please!”_ he babbled before Cancassi tightened his grip around his throat, cutting him off.

Their lips brushed the shell of his ear. “Then cum, Olbric.”

He’d never been one to wait for permission, but he couldn’t hold back as Margeurite gave his length a few hard pumps. He screamed as his orgasm crashed through him, every muscle in his body going taught as it coursed out of him. There were no silver induced visions, but he saw stars all the same.

A dry sob of gratitude escaped him as Cancassi thrust deep, filling him as they came. Marguerite stroked him until he whimpered and tried to jerk away, so sensitive that the contact felt unbearable. She let go as Cancassi pulled out of him, leaving him spent and limp and exhausted in the silver’s grip. 

For a long moment, he hung in the afterglow, vaguely hearing Cancassi and Margeurite’s praise. Their hands were gentle as they stroked over him. They seemed to know what was coming before he did. Cancassi held him tight, and Margeurite released him from the silver just as the drop hit.

All his life, he had been conditioned to endure pain. All those times his father had taken a hand or belt to him had hardened him against it. He’d been told not to cry, not to let the hurt show, even when he felt like he might scream if he couldn’t get it out. 

But pain alone had never made him drop. The silver had dredged up too much, and old habits were hard to break. He tried to stop the wave that threatened to pull him under, tried to swim over it. He didn’t want to think about home anymore. It was too much, too messy. But damn, it would have been nice to see his ama again, just one more time.

Cancassi’s willowy arms tightened around him. “It’s alright, Olbric,” they murmured. Margeurite scooted closer and Olbric buried his face against her neck as the drop pulled him under. The tears he’d been holding back broke free, and he fell against her, sobbing quietly. 

It felt like he was drowning as he gulped in those first few breaths. After a moment, it all started to feel a little less awful. A moment later, it almost felt good, a release he didn’t realize he had been holding back. Slowly, he cried himself out, and by the time he stopped, he felt like a weight had been taken off of him. Wrapped in their arms, he settled back into the weightlessness of conspace, feeling empty.

Margeurite stroked his hair, her lips pressed against his head. Cancassi tightened their embrace and kissed the back of his neck. “Good boy,” they murmured. 

He let his eyes slide closed as he settled back into his body. The cool stone felt good against his hot backside, and his sweat cooled on his skin. Cancassi and Margeurite’s arms were solid and secure around him. Finally, he gave a drained chuckle and wiped the tears from his cheek. “Fuck, sorry about all that,” he muttered, though he couldn’t sound glib with his voice shaking like it was. 

Cancassi chuckled and nipped his neck. “You don’t need to apologize for feeling the way you do,” they said gently.

Margeurite pulled away to cup his cheek, and he leaned into her hand automatically. Even though the worst had passed, he was still feeling tender, and not just from his thoroughly reddened ass. She smiled and kissed his forehead. “I’m sorry that the silver brought up some difficult things,” she said. “But thank you for agreeing to try.”

He shrugged but Cancassi nipped his neck again. “How are you feeling?” they asked. 

Olbric let out a long breath and dragged his hand through his hair. “Better now. I guess I needed a good cry,” he admitted. He gave Margeurite a small smile as his hand found Cancassi’s. “Thanks for helping me through it.”

Cancassi rested their cheek against his back and Margeurite kissed his forehead again. “We’re here for you,” Cancassi murmured.

“Can we get you anything?” Margeurite asked.

Olbric gave a small laugh. “Help me down to the ice bath?” he asked. “I’m going to be feeling today for the rest of the week.”

“Damn straight,” Cancassi preened. They helped him up, and Margeurite smiled as she draped a robe around his shoulders. Cancassi pulled his arm over their shoulders, and he allowed himself to be led, barely feeling his feet touch the ground. 

A thought drifted through the comfortable fog, and he smiled. He realized he was wrong. He may be far from his birthplace, but he was home.


End file.
